


New Reality

by LesserSootyOwl



Category: Halo (Video Games) & Related Fandoms, Red vs. Blue
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Humor, Major Original Character(s), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Canon, Tragic Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-02-21
Packaged: 2018-05-20 09:28:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 19,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6000901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LesserSootyOwl/pseuds/LesserSootyOwl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ever wonder why we’re here?<br/>I stopped asking that, along with the how, years ago.<br/>This is a written memoir of my story.<br/>It begins one day while I was working in a military hospital in Damascus.....</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Well ... Here We Go Then

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I own my OC's, Roosterteeth owns the rest

It was a relatively normal night when ‘it’ happened. I was doing my rounds, checking on my patients in the ICU ward. We’d had a hectic morning when three Americans were brought in with critical injuries following a roadside IED detonation. So I was checking in on them to see if they could be sent to the regular wards yet. I was looking down at their files while walking into the room, so I didn’t notice the change straight away. _This isn’t the ward?_ I thought to myself. It sure as shit looked like an apartment however. Wheeling around suddenly I noticed that the door I had just entered was different too. I quickly opened it and instead of the clinical, white walls of the hospital, I saw a hallway lined with what appeared to be apartment doors.

Closing the door behind me, I re-entered the room with a sigh. _What. The. Fuck._ I calmed myself down before walking further into the room. There were no hospital beds, no medical equipment, and also no patients. Studying the room I noticed that it was very modern. All the appliances and furniture looked strange and sleek. Most surfaces were either some sort of metal or glass. However the one thing that really stood out was the view from the large window expanding across an entire wall. Massive, neon lit skyscrapers. In between which aircraft were casually cruising. _All right then, this is the future I suppose_ , I thought.

I’ve always been a very calm and practical person. However this was freaking me out, questions bouncing around my head like pinball machine. _How did I get here!? Where am I!? WHAT THE FUCK!?_ The last one kept repeating, over and over again. I was in a hospital one second and then an apartment in the future the next. My thoughts were suddenly interrupted and I jumped when I heard a loud knock on the front door. I froze for a few seconds, completely in shock over the whole situation. Another knock resounded before I came to my senses and rushed over to the door. There was no peep hole to look out into the hallway through, so I just silently prayed as I opened the door.

“Ah, Doctor Hawke, there you are.” I nearly fainted at what I was seeing. A man completely covered head to toe in red and orange Spartan Armour, looking exactly like he was straight out of the Halo franchise. _No fucking way! There’s no way this is the Halo universe. No bloody way!_ I must have looked like a complete idiot staring at him with my mouth hung open in shock, however he either didn’t take notice of it or chose not to comment, instead saying “Can I come in Doc, I’ve got some documents for you to go over before you’re transferred to the project.”

After clearing my throat quickly I moved to the side to let the Spartan in. There was no way I’d be standing in the way of a thousand-pound, heavily armoured space marine. He walked in, sounding surprising light-footed considering the weight of the armour. “Oh yeah I suppose I should introduce myself first,” he started while holding out his hand for me to shake it, “I’m Agent New Mexico with Project Freelancer.” _Holy shit,_ I thought as I shook his proffered hand.

“I’m guessing from the look on your face you expected to be picked up one of the lackeys huh?” New Mexico said with a laugh. I just mutely nodded since I had no idea what to expect, let alone that. “Well usually we do, but the Director was very specific in his instructions regarding you Doc.” He paused for a moment, clearly thinking something through before continuing, “I guess I should stop calling you Doc though once you sign your transfer papers. I wonder what State name they’re giving ya?” I’m sure if he hadn’t had a helmet and visor on I would have seen him wink. I tried to school my expression as I didn’t have the benefit of one. Once again I just mutely nodded, I didn’t trust myself to speak without my voice squeaking.

“You know, you’re quite,” he said with an evident frown in his voice, “You’re not mute are you? Didn’t saying anything about that in your profile.”

Finally gaining the courage to speak I just let out a monotone, “Nope.”

“Well good then, because that would have been awkward. Care to take a seat Doc?” he said while gesturing toward the dining table further in the apartment.

New Mexico followed me as I lead the way to the table which I hadn’t even noticed had a stuffed duffle bag and some sort of table sitting on top. My duffle bag that I carried every day to the hospital. _How the hell?_

“Good to know you’re always prepared to move out, this is a pretty hectic job you’re signing up for here.”

Feeling more comfortable now that I at least had something of my own in this strange world, I replied with a snarky, “I’ve had worse.” It was true too, as a combat medic in the Australian Defence force I had seen my fair share of hectic days, this one however was looking at topping all of them.

New Mexico just laughed as he pulled out one of the chairs from the table and sat down as I did the same. He then proceeded to pull out a device that he stretched out into a holographic projector. _Wow this shit is cool_ , I mused to myself as I waited for him to continue. He tapped away at a few tabs on the holo-projector, bring up what looked like a legal document before handing it to me. “Just read that and then we can get ya signed up,” he said happily.

I gingerly took it from his metal-gloved hands before reading the text. It was a military contract for Project Freelancer; a bunch of information about the classified artificial intelligence program and what my role in it would be. There was no mention of my ‘Agent’ name yet, however apparently I had already been in the UNSC as a Combat Medic for two years and held the rank of Sergeant. _Holy fuck balls_. Further down where I had to obviously sign the confidential document was my full name. _Kara Marie Hawke_. Once again questions rang through my head. _How do they know my name? I’m from 2015, not 2550 like it says up the top_. _Why are they recruiting me?_

That last question was answered when I scrolled down further in the document to my ‘ _Agent Profile’_. My age, _23_ was there. My birthplace, _Brisbane Australia_. My date of birth however was very wrong, _29/01/2527_ instead of the actual 29/02/1992. I’m pretty sure that I’d remember my own birthday, especially since I only had it every four years because of the leap year I was born on. My military history looked startlingly similar except for the dates and places where events occurred. Instead of fighting ISIS in Damascus in 2015 it said that I’d been fighting Insurrectionists on Tribute in 2549. _This is all kinds of messed up,_ I thought to myself.

Suddenly aware that I still had an audience, I quickly made up my mind and used my finger to sign my name in the space allocated and handed the holo-projector back to New Mexico, who then closed it while saying, “Welcome to Project Freelancer Agent.”

I had no idea what was happening or why. No idea where I was along the timeline of Red versus Blue, which I had been a fan of since Medical School. All I knew is that for some reason I was now given a chance to right some wrongs in regards to Freelancer. To potentially save and meet some of my favourite characters from the web series. This was my New Reality.


	2. New Game, New Name

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm posting two chapters today as the first chapter is a bit light on material. From tomorrow onward I'll be posting a chapter per day (I've got a number already ready to go).

I quickly took a liking to Agent New Mexico. He seemed like a genuinely nice human being, and not creepy nice like Florida. Not that I should be able to compare anyone to Butch Flowers because in this universe I haven’t met him yet. After leaving my apartment with Mexico he drove us to a waiting Pelican drop-ship. A Pelican currently piloted by the one and only 479er.

“Hey there rookie, welcome aboard. Please ensure that all vomiting throughout the duration of this trip occurs in the bags provided,” She said cheerfully, “Now everyone strap in so we can get out of this shit hole.” This ‘shit hole’ turned out to be Casbah, the capital city of Tribute; a UNSC Inner Colony in the Epsilon Eridani System. The system that apparently I had been station in for the last two years. Before I stuffed my duffle bag in under-seat compartment and strapping myself in, I pulled out the tablet that I had hastily thrown in on my way out from the apartment. I had absolutely no intention of spending the flight to wherever we were going, most likely the Mother of Invention, trying to make small talk with New Mexico.

Having no idea what I was doing, I just randomly tapped the screen of the tablet and prayed that it was somehow synced to my fingerprints. Letting out a breath I had realised I was holding, I tried not to notice Mexico tilt his head in contemplation at that, and instead tapped away at the glowing icons that had appeared. For some reason they were in some type of alien language. For some reason I could understand exactly what they said. _WHAT!? So now, not only am I in some sort of Alternate Universe based off a web-series, but I somehow know whatever this language is!?_ I didn’t known whether or not New Mexico was physic or something, or maybe just curious because he was being a sticky-beak and looking at my tablet when he said, “Wait… why is your tablet’s information in Sangheili?”

I decided to play myself as being a bit of a snark when I replied with a, “So sticky-beaks looking over my shoulder can’t read it.”

He obviously took the hint and shifted his gaze with a nervous laugh, “Could come in handy as well if we ever have to negotiate with any Elites.”

 _Nice save dude_. “True dat,” I said with a slight smile, to show him that he was forgiven. One of my virtues, though some could say vice, was that I easily forgave people for the stupid things that they did and said.

Then with the shock of my newly discovered fluency in an alien language forgotten, I resumed my perusal of the tablet’s contents. What I discovered was a mixed bag. There was nothing at all pertaining to my life here on Tribute; no contacts, no messages or emails, no photos or videos. In fact the only two ‘apps’ on the tablet were the music and internet ones. I tapped the music icon and suddenly felt like I’d been kicked in the gut. Every single song listed were the ones I had on my iPhone that I had stupidly left at base that morning. Songs that meant the world to me because they reminded me of my loved ones back in Australia. Songs that I thought I’d never hear again. There was also notably, the tracks off the Red vs Blue season nine album that I’d downloaded only last week. _This is getting weirder and weirder every second. If this is all a dream, when I wake up I’m gonna need to see a psychiatrist._

Instead of playing any of the songs I backtracked to the menu and decided to have a browse on the internet that somehow worked, even though by that point I could feel we were in space. I knew that I’d most likely not get much free time to myself after this flight, so I quickly rushed through the latest news about the war, with interesting mentions of Master Chief strewn throughout. Then I went and found a timeline of the last half-millennia. _Wow, I feel so old now, I’m like 558 years old_. I quickly memorised important facts that I would most likely be expected to know; like how the UNSC was founded in 2163 and Slipspace being discovered in 2291. I also silently revelled in the fact that I knew that in 2553 the Great War with the Covenant would be over. Well I hoped me being there wouldn’t have crazy butterfly effects since I figured this was an Alternate Reality and not just the future.

After a while my frantic cramming was stopped when 479er announced that we were approaching the Mother of Invention. _One point to me_. I tucked the tablet underneath my arm and leaned forward to see into the open cockpit and the ship silhouetted against the expanse of space around it.

“Pretty cool huh?” New Mexico enthused as we headed towards an open hangar, “It’s a huge ship considering the Project was only given the greenlight a week ago, I’ve got now idea how the Director managed to get it.”

I just nodded a few times in assent as I processed what he’d just told me. _So the Project’s only just started. At least I’ll gave heaps of time to fix things._ I then asked New Mexico, “How many other Freelancer Agents are there currently aboard?”

“Three,” he replied before continuing, “Agents Florida, Maine and Georgia.”

I supressed a smile before asking another question, “When’s the next batch coming in? I’m assuming there’s going to be more than just five of us, given the State naming.”

After a quite chuckle he answered, “Apart from you today, we’ll be getting six more in a fortnight.”

This perplexed me and I sounded my confusion, “Why such a long gap in between?”

He smirked, apparently enjoying my confusion. “The Director wants to set up a kind of ‘starter team’ with one Agent of each specialty before bring in the ‘big guns’,” he said while quoting with two fingers on each hand. The fact he sounded mockingly sarcastic throughout most of that sentence indicated to me that he wouldn’t consider himself anything less than a ‘big gun’. For me that was a sobering thought; because either he wasn’t as good as he believed, and so wasn’t ever shown on the leader board in the series, or because he was, and got wiped off the board before the start of season nine. I hoped it was the first because I’d already taken a liking to him. _Well one more thing to figure out I suppose_.

Aware of the fact that I hadn’t voiced my opinion, I smiled a feral grin and said, “Well so he thinks.” I remembered suddenly that I hadn’t seen any mentions of my non-military fighting skills in the document New Mexico had shown me earlier. _Ugh, I’ve really got to shorten his name because it sounds long even in my thoughts._ They weren’t listed in my one from the Old Reality either so it wasn’t too surprising. Since I’d studied various martial arts and competed in free running trials since I was a child, I figured I’d give the Director quite the surprise when I kicked major ass on the training floor. I was quite the sharpshooter and knife thrower too, though I’d have to work on my mid-range weaponry while I was with the Project because it was lacking. _Maybe when Wash gets here I’ll get him to help me out in return for close-combat training_ , I mused.

A loud thud reverberated throughout the hull of the Pelican as we landed inside the hangar bay. I lifted the safety bar that had secured me to my seat, collected my duffle bag and then followed Mexico down the ramp with 479er following me.

“Well kiddos,” 479er said before heading off with a, “I’ll see ya around the ship and whenever you guys need an Ace Pilot!”

“Nice meeting you,” I returned politely before turning to walk beside New Mexico.

“Okay. Now we’ll stop by your room to drop off your belongings before we head to the bridge and introduce you to the Director and Counsellor.”

“Sounds good.” While we walked through the ship I took note of the turns we took and rooms of interest that Mexico pointed out. We passed the mess hall, training rooms and classrooms before reaching the locker room which resided right next to the private accommodations. I noticed that there were two name plate holders on each door; so obviously I would be bunking with another Agent eventually.

The door New Mexico stopped us in front of had no name plates which he explained by saying, “The Director doesn’t assign an Agent’s name until he personally meets them. You’ve got this room to yourself though until the next female Agent gets here. Lucky, I’ve got to share with Maine and I’ll give you a warning now, he’s a bit moody.”

I just snorted in reply before opening the door and throwing my bag onto the bed on the left, barely giving the room a cursory glance since I already had an idea of what to expect; empty with metal walls in a military fashion, thin mattresses and sufficient storage space. This was of course a UNSC vessel; I wasn’t expecting a lavish apartment like the one I’d found myself in earlier. After closing the door I then nodded to Mexico to continue the ‘tour’.

I was then eventually lead to an elevator that brought us to the bridge of the ship. Suffering through an awkwardly silent elevator trip I was then awarded the sight of a technological masterpiece. Dozens of UNSC personnel operated large holographic displays which they used to run the ship alongside the ship’s ‘dumb A.I’ F.I.L.S.S, as well as the most-likely unseen Alpha ‘smart A.I’. At the helm of the Mother of Invention stood the Director; facing out towards the visible sphere that was Tribute, in his customary stance.

Upon hearing our arrival he abruptly turned and gave me a cursory glance before he addressed New Mexico in his southern drawl, “Thank you Agent New Mexico, that’ll be all today, please return to your scheduled training.”

Mexico gave a quick salute and “Yes Sir!” before turning and heading out the way we’d come in, giving me a quick nod as he did so.

The Director then stepped forward, to the opposite end of the planning table I’d found myself in front of, before addressing me. “Doctor Kara Hawke, I’m Doctor Leonard Church, or as you Agents will refer to me as, Director.”

My stomach roiled with either nervousness or disgust, at the thought of being under this man’s command. So I smothered my figurative butterflies, stood to attention and saluted whilst stating politely, “It’s an honour to be under your command Sir.”

The answer must have pleased him because he gave me a small smile. “Excellent.” He then tapped the screen on the planning table; bringing up my profile before adding a word in the blank space next to ‘Agent’, where my State name belonged. “Welcome to Project Freelancer, Agent Arizona.”


	3. Messy In And Out

I’d been to many different mess halls throughout my time in the Australian Defence Force. The first one at Military College that was orderly but friendly; filled with the faces and voices of my fellow recruits chatting away. The temporary one out in the middle of the Australian outback; where snakes would casually slither by the boots of un-fazed soldiers. The eerily quiet one in the Allied Nations hospital in Damascus Syria; filled to the brim with sombre medical staff and wounded soldiers.

None however held any light to the mess hall of the Mother of Invention. Had I known the chaos that awaited me the first time I entered through the doors, I would have skipped dinner. Of all the things I thought I could count on in this waking-dream of a day, one would be a civilised meal area. This of course however, was an Alternate and New Reality with rules straight out of a comedic web series full of crazies and idiots. I should have been smarter than to think I could walk in without every single person turning to stare at me, before turning to whisper to each other in hushed tones like teenage girls at high school. I should have been wise enough to see the warning signs of fight that started over hushed whispers of “Dibs.” I should have been aware enough to notice the hulking form of Agent Maine that was about to cross my path, or Agent Wyoming leaning on the end of a table on the other side. However I did none of these things because of my single-minded craving for the food I could smell wafting throughout the hall. I was bee-lining it to the serving line; because I hadn’t eaten since well before my fourteen-hour hospital shift. The one that had been interrupted by some inter-dimensional travel and recruitment into a top-secret military project.

Depending on how you see it, I was lucky or unlucky enough to have the reflexes of a ninja. Noticing the collision course with Maine from the corner of my peripheral vision, I spun away quickly on one foot, positioning my arms outwards at shoulder height for spin-efficiency. Unfortunately at that point I hadn’t noticed Wyoming in the path of my elbow, which was at head height for him. _He’s shorter than I’d thought,_ was not the thought that should have been on my mind at the time, but it was. Somehow, defying all my logical reasoning, Wyoming somehow managed to fall forward and head-butt Maine straight in the balls. Neither of them were wearing armour, and Wyoming was apparently quite a heavy guy with a thick skull. They both then somehow managed to fall backwards into the military personnel waiting in line, as well as those exiting with trays laden with bowls of food and cups of beverages. They all went down like bowling pins while I watched; my mouth hinged open in shock.

Apparently that day’s meal was some sort of beef stew; a fact that I learnt as I watched it fly from multiple sources through the air, covering everyone within five metres of the ‘crash’ site. Everyone except for me. _Maybe it’s my lucky day_ , I thought sarcastically while I waited for the fallout that would end the currently stunned silence of the mess hall. I tried desperately not to burst out into laughter whilst the two Agents and other various soldiers tried to untangle their limbs and get up, before most of them fell back down again after slipping in the stew that had pooled on the floor. I felt my face flush red, not in embarrassment, but amusement as I tried to hold back my laughter and my eyes starting to water from the effort.

Then someone to my right started to laugh uncontrollably; Agent Florida. He was then followed by both Agents New Mexico and Georgia whom were seated around him. Florida’s face started going red from the effort as he banged his fists on the table in appreciation. Then everyone in the mess hall starting laughing, followed by a lough cheer of “Food fight!” That’s when everything started to really go to hell. I quickly slid underneath a table to escape the ensuring massacre, crawling and ducking between the tables towards the exit. I made it to the door unscathed and I turned around to look over the scene in front of me. There was stew everywhere, as well as some sort of slimy chocolate pudding that smeared down the walls that I hadn’t noticed before.

Just as I was about to make my escape I heard a gravelly voice growly out, “YOU!” Everyone in the mess hall once again turned to stare at me, giving me a sense of déjà vu from mere minutes ago. They all apparently noticed my pristine grey tank-top and black tracksuit pants that I had put on after my shower half an hour ago. They all apparently decided that it wasn’t acceptable for me to be free of food. I could have made it out the door and run, but I decided to man-up and take the hit. All I could do is cross my arms in front of my head to protect my hair and face, as well as bracing myself before the ensuring tidal wave of stew and pudding hit me full-force.

After a few moments the barrage ceased and I flicked my arms out to rid myself of the watery food running down them. Looking up I noticed Agents Maine and Wyoming grinning at me. All was apparently forgiven. Smiling back, I then proceeded to walk past them and arrive at the serving line which had been abandoned in all the excitement. Grabbing a tray, I then added a bowl of the remaining stew, two bread rolls, an apple and a cup which I filled with soda along with cutlery. Meanwhile everyone was watching my every move in shocked silence as I then took my tray to the table where Florida, New Mexico and Georgia were seated, and sat down next to the red and orange New Mexico.

I stuffed my mouth full of food as quickly as possible after I mumbled out a, “Nice to meet you all, I’m Agent Arizona,” while they watched, slightly stunned.

The first to recover was, as expected, Florida who was across from me. “Hi I’m Agent Florida,” he then paused gesturing to the helmetless green Spartan on his left, “this is Agent Georgia, and you already know Agent New Mexico.”

I just grunted and nodded in reply as I continued to scoff down my food in a ravenous frenzy. New Mexico chuckled and then asked me, “When was your last meal Arizona? Last week?”

I swallowed my mouthful of food and washed it down with a gulp of the cola-flavoured soda before replying. “Well technically yes, because today is a Monday and I have eaten a meal since before my last ward rotation over thirty hours ago.”

New Mexico didn’t get a chance to reply before Florida let out an almost girl-like “How absolutely fantastic!” followed by, “It’s going to be great having a Doctor on the team, what with Maine loving to break everyone’s bones every training session and all, it’ll make for a great response time!”

I just chuckled as I finished inhaling my stew and started bitting off massive chunks of my apple. New Mexico lightly face-palmed his forehead, muttering something under his breath, while Georgia warily regarded the two other Agents that had decided to join us. Maine sat down next to me, soaked in stew, with pudding smeared across his bald head. Wyoming sat across from him next to Florida, his dark moustache holding some small chunks of vegetables. The sight of the two of them made me choke on a piece of apple as I snort-laughed. Before I could even start coughing Maine thumped me hard on the back with his open hand which helped me recover.

“Thanks man, you must be Maine,” I said before drinking from my cup to wash down any left-over apple chunks. He just grunted in reply.

Wyoming laughed before speaking in his heavy British accent, “Well dearie, since you already know that I’m assuming you already know my name?”

“Wyoming,” I replied and he nodded.

“And yours?”

“Arizona.”

“Most splendid,” he said cheerfully, “by the way I can’t help but notice you’ve got an accent there, from where do you hail?”

“Australia,” I replied with a non-committed shrug. I wasn’t sure yet whether or not being from Earth is considered rare or not, or even very ‘cool’. This was then answered when everyone gave me appreciative and awed looks.

For the first time Georgia spoke in an almost conspiratorial tone, “You must have seen real life snakes and crocodiles then?”

Everyone was watching me expectantly, hanging on my every word. “Well yeah I’ve seen almost every venomous species of snake we have and I’ve held a four-foot long croc.” They looked at me like I’d told them we’d be having shore leave on a magical island with an all you could eat buffet. Every word I had said was true too. I had grown up in the outskirts of Brisbane; the capital city of Queensland. My family had owned a large rural cattle property and as a kid I had the entire ‘country’ experience. Horse rides, cattle herding, snakes and creek swimming. Couldn’t have asked for more really. _I miss my parents_ , I thought sullenly.

The other Agents must have noticed the change in my demeanour; especially Florida who smiled sadly at me. Finishing my apple I stood up said, “Pleasure meeting you all, I’ll see you at training in the morning,” before dumping my tray in the provided bin and exiting the mess hall. It had been an emotional rollercoaster of a dinner. Just one more thing that was added to my list of topics that I’d normally discuss with my parents, but another that I’d most likely never be able to ever again.


	4. New Look, Left Hook

I had been instructed by F.I.L.S.S my first night on board the Mother of Invention, to report for armour and weapon assignment the next morning at 0800. After sleeping rather well considering everything, I woke at my usual time of 0500 and decided to hit the gym before breakfast. New Mexico had pointed it out to me the previous day during my ‘tour’ of the ship, along with a comment about it being reserved for Freelancer Agents only. Which meant that it was completely empty at the time I arrived there. _Obviously the boys like their sleep-ins_.

I warmed up with some Yoga and then started some cardio work on a treadmill. I still hadn’t found any headphones to play the music off my tablet through, so I put it on the oddly-named ‘Party starter’ setting; listening to my usual workout mix comprising of mostly AC/DC, David Guetta and Red Foo tracks. After running at a full-sprint for thirty minutes I stretched out my legs before starting on weights. I’d never been a petite woman; with my wide-shoulders and six-foot height, so I was lifting quite a lot with the added bonus of my rural upbringing and military career. Following weights came some leg work, because like everyone says, you shouldn’t skip leg day. Squats and lunges were then proceeded by crunches and star-jumps, push-ups and sit-ups. I then spent some time hitting the punching bag in the corner of the gym, followed by some relaxed stretching and light meditation. The whole workout took exactly an hour and a half, like every other time, I had a very good internal clock.

I entered the ill-fated mess hall after a quick shower and change. It was spotless, and anyone who hadn’t been in attendance wouldn’t have even considered the previous night’s chaos possible. There were no Freelancer Agents seated among the thin scattering of personnel at the tables; obviously 0700 was too early for them to wake as well. After a quick, incident free wait in the food line, I collected a tray and loaded it up with a bowl of porridge, a bowl of cereal and milk, two slices of toast with peanut butter, a handful of bacon, three fried eggs, two hash browns and a huge cup of orange juice. The crew member next to me in line stared at my tray in disbelief at the sheer mountain of food I had. I just gave him a toothy smile before sitting down at an empty table and hoeing into my breakfast. I’d learn long ago to each as much as possible, whenever possible, because you never knew when your next meal might be. Countless missions as a Combat Medic had taught me so.

While I was eating I typed up my journal report on my tablet I’d brought in with me. The Counsellor; whom I’d met after my introduction to the Director the previous day, had suggested that I keep up a journal on my ‘feelings’ and ‘thoughts’ about the Project and its Agents. I’d seen this as the obvious information fishing that it was, and so I’d decided instead to type out as many of my memories from my ‘Old Reality’ as possible, that way I’d never forget them. Well unless I lost my tablet, so I’d have to find a way to back-up the data. I’d spent a good portion of the night after dinner learning about the technology in this alternate universe’s future. Most of it was simple but I didn’t have access to a server where I could upload my reports. _Maybe I can find Alpha and ask him where to store it?_ I questioned myself.

By the time I finished writing and eating it was 0730 and the other Freelancer’s still hadn’t arrived for breakfast. I considered the fact that we didn’t have training until 0900 and so they probably wouldn’t come in until the last possible moment for food. I returned to my room after dumping my tray, to return my tablet and pack away the last of my duffle bag’s contents. Last night I had been happily surprised to see that it contained my small photo album that I always took on deployment; containing pictures of my family and friends, as well as a variety of the animals we had on the farm. _At least I have something left to remember them by_ , I reminded myself.

I then headed out my room and through the relatively empty halls towards the armoury. It didn’t surprise me that there weren’t many people around since the Project had only started a bit over a week prior. I wondered who the six new Freelancers would be coming in a fortnight. Any thoughts I had about the matter dissipated when I arrived at the heavily-reinforced doors of the armoury. My biometrics had been scanned and uploaded into the system the day before, so I just pressed my palm against the proffered keypad and was let inside. The room reminded me of a miniature version of the one in the Halo 4 Legendary ending; where Master Chief removes his armour. Instead of the hundreds of Spartan armour ‘pods’ in the game there were only six. Just enough for the quick addition or removal of armour for a regular squad.

There were three armour technicians waiting for me at the first one. I had been instructed that morning by F.I.L.S.S to wear the black gel-lined bodysuit provided to my armour fitting. Which made everything much less awkward for myself and the technicians I supposed, because I wouldn’t have to squeeze into the tight bodysuit in front of them. I couldn’t help but feel excited, as well as nervous, as I walked up to them and said a quick, “Good Morning.” The technicians proved silent and just gestured for me to step into the centre of the arch way. At that point I couldn’t tell what colour my armour would be, because it was stored underneath the floor, as well as the fact that I apparently didn’t get to choose it.

I held myself still but limber, with my arms held up at shoulder length in a t-stance as instructed. Facing forward I heard whirring sounds as robotic arms and tools begun to attach the armour piece by piece, with the last one being a helmet with an orange-tinged visor that I found myself looking out of. After the technicians ran some diagnostics on their tablets, the mechanism then released me and I then gingerly took my first step forward. I remembered from Halo lore that these suits enhance body movements so I was very careful not to move suddenly. I wasn’t sure whether or not if it was actually Mjolnir armour, but I considered it was most-likely not since I hadn’t been genetically augmented for it like the Spartan-II’s. _Well not that I know of anyway_.

I carefully walked towards where I had earlier seen a mirror to see what I looked like. My armour appeared to be entirely Mark-IV, and was a navy-blue with red and yellow accents on the shoulder, elbow, thigh and knee pieces. _Quite similar colours to the state flag of Arizona,_ I thought amusedly. I looked awesome, and couldn’t wait to test the limits of the suit, but first the technicians herded me towards the weapons area of the room. I was told to choose my preferred weapons so that I could then head into the target range for a few minutes of practice before regular training.

There were half a dozen tables with weapons of each category neatly lined up on each. I grabbed two M40 pistols and locked them to the magnetic holsters on my sides, followed by the SRS99C-S2 AMB semi-automatic sniper rifle which I locked onto my back plate. I found a small ammo bag that I filled with mags from my chosen weapons and attached to the small of my back. I then grabbed two KA-BAR knives, and half a dozen smaller throwing knives, slotting them into places throughout my armour. After I nodded to the technicians they lead me to a small weapons range with three stationary targets.

I just started off by loading a magazine into one of my pistols, switched the safety off via its link with my helmet, and fired at the target single-handedly. If I hadn’t been wearing the suit the recoil would have surprised me. However I was wearing one and it compensated for the movement by steading my hand. I emptied the mag and every shot was a bullseye in the centre of the target’s chest. After releasing the mag onto the floor, I then grabbed my second pistol in my left hand. Then I used a move that I’d practised for hours on end back during my various deployments to reload the two handguns at the same time. One of the reasons why I had just chosen the M40 was because the angle in which the mags were reloaded was nearly identical to that of weapons I’d previously used. It was a flashy move but one that was also useful, and one that had saved my life twice already on missions. The technicians must have also been impressed because I heard their muffled appreciative whispers through the muffled speakers of my helmet which had gone into ‘target range mode’ before I’d taken my first shot.

After once again emptying my clips into the targets while dual-wielding, I reloaded them in the same manner and then switched the safety’s on via the neural link. It hadn’t surprised me the previous night when I showered, that I’d found a slight bump at the back of my neck where a neural implant was present. This then linked me to my armour and onto any weapons I was using. _Kinda feels like cheating with all these enhancements_ , I thought while holstering my handguns and removing the rifle off my back. As it was a gas-operated sniper rifle it had to be cocked before loading the SRS’s four-round magazine. It was a rifle with a very slow reload and firing time, however it was one of the UNSC’s most accurate and powerful ones. In the Halo games it was a one-hit kill on most players with headshots, and I only ever got headshots. _So modest_ , I internally chuckled at myself.

The rifle was powerful enough to warrant some recoil, even with my armour on, as I quickly emptied the four rounds into the centre of the head of the target. I once again reloaded the rifle before locking it to its place on my back. I didn’t feel the need to practice with my throwing knives at the time, figuring it was best to not show all my cards at once. I was then told by a technician to head to the main training after depositing my weapons in my locker, since it was almost 0900. _How time flies when you’re having fun_.

The others had apparently already been into the armoury and suited up in the time I’d been in the target room, so they hadn’t seen my armour until I walked in.

New Mexico whistled loudly in appreciation before saying, “That’s a good look Arizona.”

Nodding in thanks I joined them in the centre of the room where they had formed into a rough circle, Georgia and Florida stepping to the side to let me stand between them.

“So ladies, looking forward to those broken bones Wyoming was talking bout last night?” Maine growled out while making a threatening gesture.

Florida clapped me on the back hard before laughing and calling out, “F.I.L.S.S, how about we get this party started?”


	5. Point Arizona

Secretly I was hoping for my first match to be a five versus one Texas-style affair, where I would wipe the floor with everyone else. However I was unsurprised, albeit disappointment, when F.I.L.S.S split us up into a group of three and a group of two. Florida was apparently sitting this one out after breaking his right leg two days ago during a match with Maine. Georgia, Wyoming and myself versus Maine and New Mexico. These were obviously what the Director perceived to be the strong group and weak group, and I was a bit miffed to be in the latter.

“Round one, Pugil sticks,” F.I.L.S.S instructed in her chipper voice. The Pugil stick was light in my hands as I gave it an experimental twirl; several of the martial arts I’d grown up with used staffs of some kind, so I was confident with it. The two teams stood on opposing ends of the round training room and waited for F.I.L.S.S’s instruction. “Begin round one.”

New Mexico was fast, like his lean and willowy body would suggest, even though I hadn’t yet seen him out of armour. He rushed towards Wyoming, whom he thought the strongest of our group, to take out the supposed leader. I let him and instead rushed towards Maine, their strongest member, and must have surprised both him and Mexico with that move. As Maine went to block me with his Pugil, I dropped down to slide past his left and swept him off his feet with my own. Still sliding along the training room floor I then planted a foot to spin around and launch back towards the rising form of Maine, striking him in the head and knocking him back down.

While I was doing so New Mexico had already knocked out Wyoming with a strong sweep to his head and had started to duel with Georgia. Maine however was still not down, I knew that it would take a lot to knock him out of the match, and so I started a barrage of his to his chest and head. After a few seconds Maine landed on his back with a large thud, his armour locked up signifying his ‘death’. I turned around to New Mexico just had he finished off Georgia with a stab to the gut, and he seem surprised to see me still standing, looking past me to the motionless Maine.

“Hmm, got some ticks up your sleeve I see Arizona,” he said with evident enjoyment in his tone. Instead of replying I just rushed him, feigning a move to his right, but actually spinning on my left foot in a similar manner to last night at dinner. This time however I also jumped in the air to get a height advantage on the taller New Mexico and brought my Pugil behind his head. Impacting with the full force of my armour-clad body it sent him flying forward and he desperately attempted to roll out of his imminent face-plant with the ground. Unsuccessful in that attempt he moaned in pain as his armour locked-up as he lay on the ground.

“End round one, point to Team Two.”

I watched as my two team members rose from the ground as their armour unlocked, and realised that I’d made a mistake by leaving New Mexico to take them out while I dealt with Maine. I really needed to work on my team work since I would normally work by myself as either a Medic left behind or sniper from afar on the battlefield. So I apologised to Georgia and Wyoming while helping them up with, “Sorry guys, I’ll cover you next time.”

“Well I think next time we should just hang back and watch while you handle the two of them yourself, since apparently you’re a total bad ass,” Georgia said cheerfully in his youthful voice.

“Actually lads, how about we turn this into a four on one, should make for a marvellous time,” Wyoming said enthusiastically while looking up towards the viewing room where we suspected the Director was watching.

 _Hahaha, yes!_ I thought to myself happily. I was even better at hand-to-hand combat than the Pugil sticks, should make it at least a challenge. The Director apparently agreed with Wyoming as F.I.L.S.S announced, “Change of teams. Agent Arizona versus Agents Maine, New Mexico, Wyoming and Georgia. Round two, hand-to-hand combat.”

My two previous teammates moved to stand beside Maine and Mexico, with all of them readying themselves while we waited for the round to begin. I rolled my shoulders and bounced a few times on my feet in preparation, outlining a strategy in my head to beat them. “Begin round two.” Wyoming and Maine rushed to attack before consulting the other two, just as they would in the future during Tex’s match. I knew that I could over-power Wyoming using my strength, but not Maine, so I utilised a strategy that I’d accidently used at dinner the night before. Use one to knock the other one out.

I dodged Wyoming’s first punch and followed up with a full-strength one of my own to his chest plate; sending him flying into Maine. With those two out of my way for now I turned my attention back to Georgia and New Mexico whom had moved to circle me on both sides. Georgia went in for a punch and I ducked; his fist impacting New Mexico on the opposite side straight in the face. _Just like in Tex’s fight_ , I mused internally. Georgia was apparently stronger than he looked because he instantly knocked Mexico out.

Before Georgia could react I sent him flying upwards with a hard kick between his legs. He landed on his side, then moved into the fetal position, reeling in pain. Turning back to the other two I noticed that Wyoming hadn’t moved from where he’d fallen and Maine had only just righted himself on his feet. A quick kick to the chest sent Maine back down and ended the round in only five moves. _I’m so awesome_ , I congratulated myself mentally. “End round two, point Arizona,” F.I.L.S.S said in a tone that would indicate she was rather pleased by the proceedings.

I heard New Mexico swear at Georgia as the latter pulled him up. “Sorry dude,” I heard Georgia mumble apologetically, “She’s just too fast.”

“Resetting floor for Lock-down-paint scenario,” F.I.L.S.S announced after we all moved off to the sides of the room. Rows of concrete pillars rose from the ground, as well as a pedestal on each end containing the paint guns. “Ready round three.” I quickly grabbed two handguns, holstering them to my side after loading their clips, as well as grabbing two extra guns which I also loaded; the Spartan armour didn’t have any pockets for extra ammunition. “Beginning round three in three, two, one. Round begin.”

I immediately took off to the left, weaving through the pillars diagonally to flank my four opponents. I saw an arm of the green armoured Georgia and snuck up behind his pillar before shooting one paint round into the back of his head at point-blank range. When the round hit his helmet it turned to a pink foam encompassing his entire head, locking down the entirety of his armour, and I watched as he fell forward face first. I had caught him by surprise, and hadn’t made a noise when he was hit, so the other three Freelancers were still not aware of my presence. My specialty was stealth for a reason.

I moved further into the back rows of pillars before I used my parkour training to run up the side of one and climb up top. The pillars were spaced perfectly to allow meet to jump across them at speed, and so I did exactly that. Spotting Wyoming first I sniped him with both of my guns from twenty metres away; once in the head and once in the chest. Maine saw Wyoming go down and spun to face the direction the shots had come from, however he didn’t look high enough and didn’t spot me until too late, which was as I shot him in the same configuration I had done with Wyoming. Although I usually preferred to stick with a single head shot to conserve ammo, I wasn’t yet sure exactly how much lock-down paint it took to knock out an opponent, so I went with the safer double shot.

New Mexico proved to be my closest match when he rolled out from behind a pillar and shot in my general direction. He hadn’t seen my position, but rather looked at the angle at which my rounds had hit Maine and traced it back. _Good to see someone here isn’t an idiot_ , I thought as I leapt to the next pillar, dodging the three shots Mexico had fired. I quickly dropped down off the exposed pillar and into the forest of pillars instead, weaving through them towards New Mexico’s position. I saw a flash of a red boot which I shot, sticking it to the floor and tripping its owner. One more round to his head and the round was over in seven shots. _Lucky seven_. “Round three over, point Arizona. Final score three points to Arizona.”

I thought about how in the web series there were more than three rounds in Texas’s match, and figured that it was still the early days of the Project and so the Director was being easy on us. It would also explain why the other four agents were so bad compared to what I’d seen in the series. Even though I won four versus one, I wouldn’t put any money on myself beating either Texas or Carolina in the future. My thoughts were interrupted as the Director came down from the viewing room and entered the training one. As a unit all five of us Agents formed up into a line and stood to attention, saluting him.

“At ease soldiers,” he commanded and we did so. He walked down the line and stopped in front of me at the end. “I’m quite impressed Agent Arizona, but not pleasantly surprised to see you win this match. Would you care to inform me why your performance was so spectacular compared to the mediocracy your military file would imply?”

 _What a dick_ , I thought to myself before replying, “They’re not skills that I’ve ever used in my two years in the field Sir.” The words seemed to satisfy him, probably because he considered them to be true. It was a logical enough assumption considering my main role on the battlefield was as medical, not combat support. That’s what my false files from this universe would say anyway; the truth was that in my old one I’d come face-to-face with enemies and had to utilise that skill set on numerous occasions.

“F.I.L.S.S please update the board,” he asked the A.I. I’d ignored the large screen with the leader board on it when I first came into the room, and now I noticed it had five names with New Mexico in number one followed by Maine, Wyoming and Georgia. After a moment it flashed and my name now appeared in the number one spot, knocking everyone else down a peg. The other Agents accepted it without a fuss considering the ass-whooping they’d just received. “You’re all dismissed,” he said once again addressing us, “return to your assigned schedules,” he then took his leave.

Florida strode in after the Director left with a slight limp, but cheerfully none the less. “That was amazing Arizona, really kicked some back-side!” he said while clapping me on the back, which was quickly becoming evident as his favourite thing to do.

“And I was just warming up,” I replied cheekily with a tilt to my head that I hoped was perceived as the wink I did underneath my helmet. It seemed that it was as he started laughing happily.

“You gotta teach me how to do that spin-move with the Pugil stick that knocked New Mexico out!” Florida said and I heard the mentioned man groan with the phantom pain associated with the memory.

“Sure thing Flo, right after lunch,” I answered amusedly.


	6. Stop Running

Lunch had always been my favourite meal of the day because of several reasons. The first was that back when I was a child it meant a good hour or more of time spent in air-conditioned comfort, which was heaven after spending the entire morning out on the farm in the hot sun. The second was that people were much friendlier around lunch time because they’d spent just the right amount of time out of bed before getting tired. I was currently enjoying both of these points in the mess hall of the Mother of Invention. It was both lovely and cool, and my fellow Agents were surprisingly chipper even after their humiliating defeat during training.

“So where are you from Flo?” I asked Florida, whom I’d already given a nickname that he actually seemed to like, even though it was quite feminine. _Then again this is Florida I’m thinking about. Pretty much a tamer version of Donut_.

“Proudly born and raised on Reach!”

Reach, I remembered, was an inner colony planet considered to be the military hub of the UNSC. It was the home of the Spartan-II program, and was also going to be heavily glassed in two years by the Covenant. I wished that I could tell Florida that last fact, but I wouldn’t be able to explain how I knew that information without being placed into a padded cell.

“Me too!” Georgia cheered excitedly. Florida, Georgia and I then looked expectantly at the other Agents, silently asking them to divulge their birth-places.

“Do I even have to answer?” Wyoming laughed and we shook our heads side-to-side.

“Kuiper, Circumstance,” Maine answered around a mouthful of his lunch.

New Mexico was the only one to not answer yet and was unusually quiet; hiding his discomfort underneath the ruse of drinking his soda.

“What about you Nex?” I asked softly. He choked and spluttered on his drink at the nickname I’d decided for him.

“Nex?” he wheezed out after coughing.

“Yeah well, I was getting sick of saying your long ass name and so decided to shorten it by fusing the two words together.”

“Why not Mex then?” he asked in confusion.

“Mexico is its own country, it wouldn’t work.”

“Wait,” he started before asking after a pause, “Mexico is a country?”

Wyoming and I, being the only two from Earth, laughed and nodded in answer to his question.

“It’s right on the other side of the border from New Mexico, as well as California, Texas and Arizona,” Wyoming explained.

“So Nex, where you from then? Cause it’s obviously not America,” I asked and then laughed.

“Harvest,” he said, trying to keep the emotion from his voice. We all stopped laughing immediately.

“Hey, I’m sorry…” I started to apologise before he interrupted me.

“It’s okay Ari, my family and I were on holiday when it was glassed. I was a baby at the time. Only lost some distant cousins.”

“Well then, I’ll change my question to where were you raised?” I asked with a sympathetic smile.

His frown turned up-side down when he answered with, “Sedra.” Sedra I knew, was never glassed during the war, although they would be attacked in 2556 by a bioweapon made of an element from Halo installation 04. From what I’d seen of the planet when watching Halo: Nightfall the planet was beautiful; with lush green forests and clear streams.

“Awesome,” I said enthusiastically and the other Agents nodded in agreeance.

There was a sudden lull in the conversation as we all reminisced about our home-worlds while finishing our food. It was broken by Wyoming asking me a question I didn’t have much knowledge about other than the basic information. “So I heard from Florida that you’re a doctor. Where did you serve?”

“Casbah, Tribute, mostly hospital work really.”

“So you were telling the truth about that earlier,” Maine didn’t asked but rather stated.

I nodded before rebuking, “I doubt lying to the Director would put me in good stead Maine.” He just grunted and crossed his arms.

“Well like Florida said yesterday,” Georgia began, “I’m glad we have a doctor, you’ll probably save our butts once we go out on missions.”

“Speaking of which,” Nex interrupted, “I don’t know whether or not you’ve all noticed yet, but we’ve got a mission briefing scheduled tonight at 1800.”

While I nodded because I’d read the schedule, Florida let out a ‘whoop’ of excitement, Maine once again grunted, Wyoming muttered ‘oh bother’ and Georgia let out a groan before saying, “But we’ll miss out on all the good food at dinner!”

Nex laughed before he leaned in towards him and whispered, “It can’t be any worse than dinner last night.”

We all laughed at the reference to what was now dubbed as the ‘slip-stew incident’. We then proceeded to leave the mess hall as a group towards our scheduled class after a quick stop-by past our rooms for writing materials, also known as our tablets. On arrival I groaned when I noticed the medical equipment strewn about the desks and the heading on the holo-projector that said ‘Field Medicine 101’. The others laughed, with all of them asking to sit next to me for pointers.

“Only if you can write my notes down for me too,” I said after taking a seat, lifting my feet onto the desk and leaning back comfortably. Unfortunately I didn’t feel that much at ease after I saw Nex’s eyes rake my stretched body and linger on the exposed flesh of my stomach where my shirt had ridden up.

Noticing my quickly reddening face he laughed awkwardly before moving to address the other Agents. “By that she means if you can read and write in Sangheili because that’s the language her tablet is set as.”

“Aww,” both Florida and Georgia said at the same time.

In the end the Counsellor walked in and asked us to each take a seat in front of a med-pack; which were dispersed over different rows. He also added in his sickly silky voice, “Agent Arizona, you are more than welcome to sit out this class today, given your previous training on this matter.”

“I’ve got nothing better to do,” I replied honestly. Although the guy gave me the creeps, he was nice enough. Plus, I had only started learning about modern medical techniques the previous night during some quick study, so I needed to listen to this class. My brain had for some stupid reason supplied me the necessary knowledge to understand an entire alien language, but not anything about my own damn profession.

It turned out to actually be a relatively interesting and informative class. I took notes throughout; under the guise of my journal reports when the Counsellor questioned me. Thankfully I wasn’t asked any medical questions and I was also pointedly not looking at New Mexico the entire time. That look he’d given me earlier had sent shivers down my spine and sparked an uncomfortable warmth in my gut. I couldn’t be distracted from my ‘mission’ by feelings and such; I already knew I was going to have enough trouble acting professional around York, North and Wash since they were some of my favourite characters in the series. _Especially Wash_ , I mused.

I was brought out of my thoughts when the Counsellor ended the class. Grabbing my tablet I was the first out of the room and booked it to a place where I could work off some of my, less than desirable thoughts; the gym. I had already planned on going there after class anyway so I was already dressed and ready for the occasion. I didn’t even stretch before jumping onto a treadmill, pulling out my tablet and putting on my wireless headphones that Florida had given me after training. He’d heard me playing music in the gym that morning as he passed by, heading towards the pool, and figured I’d like a pair. Apparently they had a pool on board the ship which I thought was odd.

I was in such a rush because New Mexico had followed me into the gym; obviously with the same idea I had, maybe also to talk to me. Using a handy feature I’d found on my tablet before lunch, I started my playlist with my mind. Well technically I used the neural link I had set up earlier to remotely use the tablet. It had made it very easy to write out my notes during class. I set the treadmill to a speed that I could lope along at for hours on end. I intended to run until New Mexico left, or until I had a reasonable excuse to have to rush out before the briefing. I had no idea why I was being so childish about what had happened, I was a twenty-three year old adult in the military after all. So instead of thinking about it I turned my music up to almost painful levels and raked up the miles on the treadmill. New Mexico was somehow always within eyesight, working out using heavy weights. I found my attention shifting more towards him when I noticed he’d taken off his shirt. With his back towards me I gazed over his well-defined muscles before I nearly tripped on the treadmill and had to return my focus to running.

From the corner of my eye I saw him turn towards me at the sound my clumsiness had made. I increased the speed of my treadmill as a silent rebuke to any thoughts he might have had that I was getting tired and therefore clumsy. I heard him snort, obviously not thinking that tiredness was the reason I’d stumbled. _He’s definitely smart_. I decided to think of less pleasant thoughts regarding New Mexico. Rather than thinking about what his abs might look like, I instead thought about why he wasn’t on the leader board in the future. _Does he die?_ I asked myself and I was suddenly panicked by that prospect.

While I was lost in my own mind I hadn’t noticed Nex move closer to the treadmills. I also didn’t notice him press the pause button on my tablet and the music turn off. Didn’t notice the silence afterwards due to my un-noticed erratic breathing from the exertion of running at a full sprint for over an hour. I even didn’t feel the treadmill slow down as Nex turned it off gradually. I was so out of my mind in panic that the only thing I eventually noticed was Nex’s hand gently gripping my elbow and pulling me down off the machine, proceeding then to place me into a seat as I hyper-ventilated. I was only then feeling the effects of the last two days; I had just lost my family, my friends, a chance at the normal life I was looking forward to after my deployment. I felt the weight of the lives of the people I had to save, resting on my figurative shoulders. Then I felt the weight of two hands from one of those people on my actual shoulders; as Nex knelt in front of me and spoke to me reassuringly. Eventually his words brought me out of my panic induced mind and I felt the tracks of water that had run down my face like a waterfall. I told myself that I hadn’t been crying, but rather that my difficulty breathing had made my eyes water.

“You’re safe here Ari,” I heard Nex say. “Nothing is going to chase you or hurt you while I’m here.” He probably was thinking I was suffering from PTSD from some sort of Covenant attack or something. He was probably right in thinking it was PTSD. Moving his hands from my shoulders, he then placed them on my cheeks instead, bringing my face up to his to look in my eyes. I don’t know what it was that his blue eye saw in my green ones; but it made him dip and press his forehead to mine in a comforting gesture.

I’d had finally regained my breath when I said in a cracked voice, “Thank you.” He took that as his cue to move away from me and I suddenly missed the presence of his rough, calloused hands and smooth, freckled forehead. He ran a hand through his orange-red hair, the colour of which reminded me of his armour. That thought then reminded me that it was getting late and we had a briefing soon. I swung my gaze away from Nex and towards the screen displaying the time; 1745, a mere fifteen minutes before we were to meet the director.

There was no way I could arrive at the bridge in my current state; dripping with sweat and tear tracks. Nex must have noticed what I was looking at, decided that I was sound enough of mind to go to the briefing, and followed me as I ran out of the gym towards the private quarters. I had no idea how I was still able to run after the abuse I’d just put my body through. I thanked all the deities throughout history that I made it to my room, and that we had private bathrooms. I was back out in the hallway five minutes later, as well as Nex who didn’t let me jog to the bridge, making the usual five-minute walk seven. As we entered the bridge with half-a-minute to spare, the attention of the Director, Counsellor and other three Agents focused on us, and I almost stopped dead in my tracks and groan in pain at a sudden realisation.

The three Freelancer agents had seen both Nex and I enter the gym after class by ourselves. They were all seeing my blonde hair that I hadn’t had time to wash, and so had brushed and placed it into a rough and messy bun. They saw Nex’s wet and messy hair from an obviously rushed shower, and lastly they saw me flushed and out of breath from the walk there. They could probably be assuming a lot about what had happened after class. None of them were probably innocent assumptions.

_FUCK!_


	7. Make It Snappy

The briefing actually ended up going quite well. The Director obviously chose not to bother worrying about New Mexico and I’s rushed and under-presented appearances. He instead delved straight into the planning of the mission we were being sent on the next morning.

“At 0500 tomorrow all five of you will be infiltrating an Insurrectionist and recovering data from their servers,” he informed in his southern drawl. “You’ll be split into teams A and B. Team A will be accessing the data point as well as breaking into their computer server, and will be comprised of Agents Florida and Arizona,” he said as he pointed at the two mentioned. “The rest of you form Team B and will be providing security for the operation.”

The Counsellor then stepped forward and added, “As number one on the leader board, Agent Arizona will be leading this mission.” _Fuck, fuck, fuck! Triple fuck,_ I swore to myself profusely as the four other Freelancers turned to look at me, so I just nodded in acceptance and watched intently throughout the remaining thirty minutes of the briefing.

“Even though this is the first mission for the Project I’m expecting you all to perform to your best ability. And please remember that this is a stealth mission, any information gained will be compromised if they’re aware of your presence. You’re dismissed Agents.” We all saluted the Director after he had spoken, leaving the bridge and heading down to the mess hall for dinner.

Like Georgia had predicted, all the good food was gone, with only some left-over meat and mashed potatoes remaining. Compared to the comradery from our earlier meal, we all ate in silence while we thought over the briefing. I supposed that I should be ‘rallying the ranks’, but after a long day of training, classes and the gym incident I barely had the energy to eat. My lungs and throat still burned with every breath I took; a side effect of the hyper-ventilation, so even if I had the energy to talk I didn’t want to.

I finished dinner first and finally broke the silence as I got up to leave. “Everyone report to the Hangar Bay at 0430 for a last minute mission re-briefing,” I ordered croakily. Three of them groaned at the prospect of the early morning and Nex started to reach out and grab my arm, but stopped himself when I moved out of arm’s reach. As I headed out I could see the other three Agents in the corner of my eye watching New Mexico quizzically. After returning to my room I set my alarm and fell asleep almost as soon as my head hit my pillow.

I never ate breakfast before a mission, and gave myself a reprieve from the gym the next morning, so I let myself sleep for as long as possible. I gave myself thirty minutes to shower, armour up and collect my weapons and med-kit from my locker before I headed to the Hangar. I was the first to arrive so I moved five small crates to form a circle, set up a holo-projector with the mission map in the centre, then sat down and waited for the others to arrive. They didn’t leave me waiting long as all four walked in together in a zombie-like fashion. One thing I’d learnt from the two nights I’d been here was that these guys loved their sleep-ins.

After they silently took their seats I addressed them, starting with; “Everyone’s weapons locked and loaded?” They all nodded. “Everyone carrying enough extra ammo for a shit-storm?” Once again they nodded in reply. “Good.” I wanted to make sure everyone was ready before I briefed them; that way if anyone had forgotten anything they had time to get it before we left. I was also not going to let them just nod in agreeance with everything, to make sure they remembered what was happening I asked each of them questions regarding the mission.

“New Mexico, as Team B squad leader, have you discussed with Maine and Wyoming how you’re all going to be set up?”

“Yes Ma’am,” he answered before continuing, “Maine will be on watch while Wyoming, Georgia and I snipe the Innie bastards that get in your way.”

“Good,” I praised before turning to Florida, “You got the data drive Flo?”

“Sure do Ari!” he said pleasantly, “Pleased as punch to be given something important to do for once!”

“Awesome,” I stated before turning on the holo-projector and pointing at a door on the west-side of the mountain facility we were infiltrating. “Florida and I will be entering through this back door,” I said before moving my finger to point further up the mountain that the base was set against, “You others will be set up on this ridge-line. It’ll give a great view of the access point.” They all nodded in agreeance while committing the location to memory. “If shit hits the fan, and we have to exit out of any of the other sides, there’s a road just beneath your ridge that goes round all sides but the front. It’s heavily utilised by the Innies, but if you need to move quickly around it’ll be work the risk to get a good angle.” They nodded. “Wyoming you’ve got thermal and GPS tracking on your rifle, so you’ll have to keep an eye out on where we’re at and what’s around us.”

“It’ll be my pleasure Arizona,” he answered proudly with his British voice.

After a few minutes of discussion about the exfiltration plan, our pilot arrived. “I see you guys are all ready to go,” 479er praised, “Good work Arizona getting these four to get up this early.”

“Ahh, well they’re all aware of the ass-kicking they’d get if they didn’t,” I joked.

“Too true, too true,” she said sympathetically, “I heard all about your four-on-one yesterday. Making a name for yourself already I see?”

“By that you’re referring to the slip-stew incident aren’t you?” I quipped.

She just heartily laughed before gesturing to her Pelican and ordering us to hop on board, which we did so. As team leader I sat in the co-pilot position behind 479er in the cockpit, while the others strapped in behind us. “Command this is 479er in Pelican troop transport five requesting permission to take-off,” our snarky pilot said over the radio. She must have been given permission because I few moments later we were taking off and heading out of the hangar into space.

Half-way through the flight I heard New Mexico get out of his seat and walk into the cockpit, moving to stand beside me. “You doing alright Ari,” he whispered to me, trying not to clue our pilot into the conversation.

I wasn’t worried about her hearing me answer because I could hear the music blaring from beneath her helmet. “Well enough Nex,” I said with a bit too much strain in my tone while I angrily tapped away at something on my tablet that I’d brought on the trip.

Nex just sighed before placing a hand on my armoured shoulder and saying, “I’m just worried for you Ari.”

I sighed as well, tearing my gaze from the screen and looking into his visor as I said genuinely, “I know Nex, thank you.” I then removed one of my hands holding my tablet and placed it atop his hand on my shoulder to reinforce the sentiment. This appeased him and he took his leave with a nod. _Why does he have to be so nice?_ I asked myself while also pointedly not thinking about the subject that had caused my panic attack the day before.

The remaining hour of the trip was uneventful, and although we had left the Mother of Invention just before the ship’s equivalent of dawn, we arrived on the mountainous moon in the middle of the night. This gave us plenty of cover along with the flurry of snow-flakes in the air as we arrived. After leaving the Pelican we had a three-mile trek across the face of the mountain to the target ridgeline. Georgia grumbled a bit about the knee-deep snow before I silenced him with a perceived glare through my visor.

We arrived at the ridge five-minutes before the targeted time and Wyoming, New Mexico and Georgia all found rocks overlooking the base to set up their rifles on, while Maine kept a lookout behind them. Florida and I slunk off towards our destination, weaving through the trees after a quick sprint across the road below the others. After another ten minutes we were in position behind a large boulder, and we radioed into command for the final go-ahead for the mission. Once mission-ago was confirmed, we blue Freelancers moved toward the door, with Florida starting in on the basic key-pad lock. He was the lock-smith and computer guy on this mission while I was the lookout and threat elimination girl.

Once he broke through the lock we waited for a few moments to see if any alarms; of either the loud or silent variety, sounded out throughout the complex. None did, and so I headed in through the door first after un-holstering one pistol and holding a combat knife in my dominant right hand; preparing for the worst considering the base’s wall were too thick to see any thermal readings. There was an Insurrectionist soldier leaning against the wall on the floor asleep. I stealthily walked up to and crouched in front of him, quickly stabbing him up through the exposed under-suit beneath his shitty armour, and into a point through his jugular that caused almost instant death. I held him by the shoulders and quietly lowered him to the floor while he gurgled on his own blood in his last moments of life.

“Holy shit,” I heard Florida uncharacteristically swear. I realised that this was probably the very first kill of the Project, and although it was an effective way to kill, it was also very brutal. I said nothing as I grabbed the key card the now-dead soldier carried and lead us swiftly down the hall ways in the direction of the server room. Now that we were inside the base, and the walls were thinner, I could see that there was only one person in the target room and they weren’t moving. Upon entering the room I relaxed when I saw that they were asleep; leaning back in a chair with their feet on the security feed terminals and an empty mug hooked onto a few fingers of their hand.

Quietly stepping up behind him, Florida realised what I was about to do and so prepared himself to catch the mug, while I hovered my hands on the sides of the Insurrectionists head. I then quickly and firmly grabbed him and snapped his neck, with a sickening crack reverberating through my fingers. Removing my hands I then wheeled the dead soldier and chair off to the side with a quick push to allow Florida, who’d already placed the mug he’d caught on the desk, room to work on the computer system. The soldier I’d just killed hadn’t even logged off the server before he’d fallen asleep, so after a few moments Florida found the files we were after and inserted the data drive to retrieve them. In the meanwhile I kept a lookout behind us, as well as on the security camera feeds, which Florida was setting into a feed-back loop from before we’d arrived in the facility.

 _This is some serious super spy shit_ , I thought to myself. As a combat medic I’d never really been involved in covert operations so this was all new to me. I was brought out of my thoughts when I saw moment in a feed from a camera just down the hall from the security room; another soldier was casually walking towards the room, most likely returning after a break. I silently alerted Florida to the threat before moving to stand beside the only door into the room, while my companion moved to hide behind a server tower. The soldier didn’t notice me until I’d wrapped my arm around his neck in a choke-hold before then using my other arm to quickly snap his neck; with the power armour on it was as easy as breathing. Once I’d dragged the body out of sight, Florida emerged and resumed his work at the console.

A minute later I was checking the security cameras one last time before Florida activated the loop-recording, giving us two-minutes to exit the facility before they operated as-per normal. I removed and pocketed the data drive, quietly reporting “Package received” to command. After another ten-minutes we signalled our approach to Team B as we ducked behind the ridge.

“Mission completed, let’s head to extraction,” I told the other four Agents. The whole thing had seemed almost two easy; I could have probably done the entire thing myself, the Director however was probably just ‘testing the waters’ to see how we performed as a group. None of us spoke in fear of jinxing the mission with congratulations the entire trek back to the Pelican. I radioed the ship as we approached and 479er lowered the entry ramp.

“Let’s head home,” I said to her upon entry into the cockpit.

“Prepare for lift-off,” she answered.

_One down, who knows how many to go._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes the pun game is strong in this one ;)


	8. Projecting Trouble

It turned out that I hadn’t gotten the only kills during the mission; Wyoming had used his silenced rifle to snipe an Insurrectionist that had headed towards the door Florida and I had gone through. We hadn’t seen the body as we exited the building because it had sunk into a snow drift and been covered quickly by the falling snow. The British man was quite proud of the head shot; it had been from quite the distance through some less-than pleasant weather. The fact that we’d only had to kill four soldiers during the mission pleased me, because I didn’t really have any reason to hate the Insurrection, so the fewer lackeys we killed the better. _Though the head count will really go up after the others get here_.

So after our debriefing; where the leader board was updated and Wyoming took over Maine’s spot as third place, and we received an underwhelming amount of praise from the Director, we all headed to the mess for a late lunch after a hard day of work. We still wore our armour, except for our helmets, as well as our weapons, which made us unapproachable to the rest of the personnel. Word spread quickly through the Mother of Invention, and although the crew wanted to chat amiably with us about the successful first mission, they didn’t dare approach armed Freelancer Agents. So we got to eat in peace, well as peaceful as a meal could get with an excitable Georgia.

All the Agents except for myself, and uncharacteristically Florida, wanted to discuss what had happened inside of the facility. So the conversation, which the male blue Agent would usually take over, was left to me.

“So how many soldiers did you guys kill?” Georgia asked and I saw Florida flinch at the words. _I’ll have to talk to him later to find out what’s going on_.

“Three,” I answered simply after finishing a mouthful of dry pasta bake.

“How’d you kill them?” Everyone except for Florida leaned in towards me, eagerly waiting for the answer to Georgia’s question.

After another bite of my meal I answered in a cold and factual manner, “Stabbed the first in the jugular, snapped the neck of the other two.”

“Wow,” Georgia said in awe, “Did you strike from behind all Ninja-like?”

“The first two were asleep, and the second I grabbed from behind when he walked into the room.”

“Sounds like an easy time,” Maine said, obviously not impressed that much; probably hoping for more action and gore in the story.

“Certainly was for me,” Florida said coldly.

“Wait did you not get anyone?” New Mexico asked Florida. The mission-kills hadn’t been a part of the debriefing, so the others weren’t aware of the death count.

“No,” he said before looking at me, “Arizona’s a more experienced killer so I let her take them.” _What the hell? Why did he sound so bitter? This wasn’t the Florida from the show,_ I thought with a frown.

“Really?” Wyoming said while twirling his moustache in contemplation, “I figured you’d be more of the saving type Arizona, being a doctor and all.”

“Well it makes it easier when you know where all the important bits and pieces are,” I quipped, trying to make myself seem more educated and less experienced. In actuality I’d kill dozen of people in similar ways during my time in the Middle-East while on deployment; sometimes the best sniper nests where behind enemy lines and so get to them you had to be stealthy. This, I figured, was what Florida had a problem with. He’d thought I was a young, inexperienced medic and he obviously didn’t like being lied to. Not that I’d actually said I was any of that, but it had been the way I was trying to get them to perceive me as. I didn’t want to be a threat here; I needed to fly under the radar to do what I needed to. I was sure that Florida would understand once everything came to light; considering his life would be one I hoped to save.

Although my quip was quite dark humoured, it did seem to make some sense to Florida, and he gave me a small smile and asked, “You gonna teach us those spots then Ari?”

“Sure thing,” I said cheekily before grabbing Nex, who was beside me, by the chin one-handed and lifted his head up to expose his throat. I fought the slight wave of warmth that hit me when I saw his cheeks redden from the somewhat intimate action. I used my other hand to gently poke the spot on his neck where I could feel his pulse; the same place in which I’d stabbed my first kill in this universe. “Right here on both sides is where the Carotid, the main neck artery, lies. If you get the angle right, roughly thirty-degrees, and dig in deep enough you’ll also hit the esophagus and maybe even the spinal cord. Quick, deadly and efficient”

The look on New Mexico’s face was sufficiently horrified, and even more so when I continued to hold him and gesture across is neck with a finger. “If you just slice across the front of the throat you subject your enemy to a longer, more agonising and sometimes unsuccessful death. There’s too much muscle and cartilage protecting the area.” I then released Nex’s jaw and he thoughtfully rubbed his throat, his face still flushed.

“How to kill bad-guys one-oh-one with Arizona,” Wyoming joked.

“I can definitely see how anatomical knowledge would benefit a soldier,” Florida added. Maine grunted and Georgia gave a thumbs-up in agreeance with the statement.

“Well this has been fun, but I’ve got two reports to write and a shower to take,” New Mexico said excusing himself. We nodded as a farewell as he left the mess hall.

“He’s probably going to be doing more than just washing himself in the shower,” Wyoming insinuated and giggled. Georgia sprayed his mouthful of soda all over Florida in astonishment at the innuendo. I just flushed and coughed awkwardly. Maine chuckled in amusement.

“Ari, you seriously didn’t think that we didn’t notice you and New Mexico have a thing going on?” Florida asked with a sly smile while drying himself off with a napkin.

“Especially after your spectacular entrance onto the bridge last night,” Wyoming added with a smirk.

Speechless, my fair skin turned tomato red while I spluttered an attempt at a reply, “Uhh … but … ahh ... umm”

The other three Agents just laughed in unison, before getting up and leaving the room, while I continued to try and tame my facial features. _Dammit_ , I cursed at myself. Day three and I was already unconsciously flirting with a fellow soldier to a noticeable extent. _God fucking dammit_. After sulking for a while I headed to the gym after dumping my armour in my locker and prayed that Nex wouldn’t be there. It would’ve been the fucking cherry on the top of the whole bloody ordeal.

After a session in a blissfully empty gym I showered before lying in bed with my tablet. Using my neural link I quickly compiled a mission report for the Director, as well as an after-action personal assessment for the Counsellor. I tried to not make myself seem too cold and heartless in the second one, as it wouldn’t do me any good to become a blip on Aiden Price’s craze-o-metre. With the boring work done, I then decided to do some online shopping to see what I could buy with the money that I’d recently discovered was in account in my name. Turned out I was a fairly wealthy combat medic; what with my family in my fake profile having the same profession in this universe as my old one. Turns out cattle farmers make a killing in the future.

It surprised me that even during a quarter-century long war with an army of multiple alien races’ that I could get almost anything shipped to the Mother of Invention. Drones apparently were used for pretty much everything these days, and even had their own Slipspace capabilities. So I thought, _fuck it_ , and bought some decent clothing for if we ever had shore-leave, as well as a decent toothbrush considering the one I’d had in my transported-through-time-and-space duffle bag was not only now 535 years old, but had also been pretty worn out before I’d arrived in this universe.

However I didn’t only purchase sensible items. After an hour of browsing modern gadgets I came across an item that I felt the overwhelming need to buy. It was a set of four holo-projectors; however they didn’t just project light as an intangible image. They used military-grade technology to turn the photons into a substantial object; like the energy shield Felix uses later in the timeline. In fact, the devices where made unsurprisingly by Charon industries, and were only found on the black market as they were extremely exclusive. Exclusive because they were the only prototypes made and had been stolen by pirates. These projectors could be used in conjunction with a neural link to form whatever the user intended; anything from roller-skates to jet-boots. Two were to be used on each foot, and two were for either the back of the hand or palm, depending on the user’s preference.

The listing had only be posted for less than a minute, and I didn’t hesitate over the enormous asking price, clicking the purchase button before even reading the contents of red warning block at the bottom of the page. It was nothing important anyway; just some stuff about making sure you didn’t activate them with any important body parts in the projection range, as well as a recommendation to wear them in conjunction with body armour to prevent ‘mishaps’. I almost felt sorry for the pirate that was the guinea pig and found that out, that was until I found out that it would take a bit over two weeks to ship to my location. Of course I couldn’t really blame them because they’d have to send it through back channels to avoid any trouble for both them and myself.

With the arrival of the next batch of Freelancers not coming until just before then, I steeled myself for a boring week and a half of waiting. However, it turned out that being bored would be the least of my problems.


	9. Silent Conversations

In the week on-board the Mother of Invention I’d never had to use the locker room showers. That was until one fateful day when I had a meeting with the Diagnostics Team straight after an intense training session. I would have gone without a shower if the technicians were only checking the outside of my armour, but no, of course they’d be doing internal checks as well. There wasn’t an armour removal arch in my private quarters, but there was one in the locker room. So while I would’ve usually have time to get my armour removed, head to my room, shower and return to put it back on, I didn’t today; therefore making it necessary to use the locker room ones. One of which was currently occupied by New Mexico; if the red and orange armour currently being cleaned by the remover was an indicator, along with the black under-suit strewn across the floor in front of a stall.

I had no options other than to either turn up to the diagnostic test while smelling profusely and embarrassing myself, or risking the possibility of New Mexico seeing me without any cover except for a towel. I put on a brave face and decided to face the latter; hoping that Nex would stay in his stall long enough for me to shower and leave before being spotted. So first I had my armour removed, then grabbed out a large towel and a bar of my favoured apricot-scented soap from my locker before entering the shower stall furthest from the occupied one. Unfortunately I couldn’t bring a fresh body-suit into the shower-stall because they were nigh-on impossible to slip into once wet, so I’d have to grab it after my shower and put it on in a changing-stall once I was dry. I didn’t strip my body-suit until I’d closed the curtain, throwing it out over the curtain rod once I’d done so.

Luck wasn’t on my side that day, because somehow New Mexico and I both finished showering at the exact same time. Upon realising that Nex would probably have no qualms about exiting the stall naked; because no one other than the guys normally used the showers in the locker room, I quickly wrapped my towel around myself without even drying my hair as I’d normally do, and rushed out of the stall. I expected that Nex would probably see me as I bee-lined to my locker, but I wouldn’t see him. What I didn’t expect is for Nex to be busy walking towards his locker while drying his hair with one towel, having also wrapped another low around his hips, and not seeing me until we collided with a decent amount of force.

“Fuck!” he called out as he was blinded when his towel fell over his face and he stumbled; pushing me roughly against a locker. “Sorry man…” he started before realising that the collar-bones that his hands were pressed against were too feminine to belong to any of the male Agents on board. His towel chose that opportune moment to fall of his head; revealing me beneath him with just a towel wrapped around my body. A towel that had un-done its loose knot and was currently only being held up by Nex’s hands.

Before he could even consider moving his hands, which he seemed reluctant to doing so anyway, I pressed my own hands against his to secure them and my towel; causing the red of both of our faces to deepen in colour. “Don’t,” I pleaded softly, because I needed him to both not accidentally release my towel, as well as give into the lust I saw spread through his blue eyes. We’d both been dancing around our attraction towards each other for the entire week I’d been with the Project; just little compliments and ‘accidental’ touches really. I’d been strong in my resolve to only have a platonic relationship with him, but those few seconds of heated contact in the locker-room blew it all away in a massive explosion.

In this case a massive explosion of heat that erupted in my abdomen as Nex’s lips softly crashed into mine. I gasped from a sudden rush of pleasure, and Nex responded by deepening the kiss and delving his tongue into my mouth; running it along the underside of my top lip while he simultaneously moaned. My body finally caught onto what was happening and I responded to the kiss; moving my own mouth and tongue against his, as well as relocating my hands to the back of his head, threading my fingers through his soft, wet hair. He tasted like the peppermints he was fond of eating, and I suddenly craved the taste when he removed his mouth and relocated to my neck. My back arched back and my hips ground into his as he started to plant kisses from my collar-bone up to my pulse point; the kill spot I’d demonstrated on him earlier that week. When he nipped at the spot I bucked my hips and we both groaned in unison; my brain finally catching up to my body when I felt a hardening length between his legs.

Removing my hands from Nex’s hair, I broke off his attentions to my neck when I slipped my hands underneath his, which were still securing my towel and secured it myself. I then dug my elbows into either side of his well-defined chest and pushed him away by stepping forward, as I slid my hands along the top of my towel and underneath my arms to secure it around the open back. Before Nex could speak I spun to my locker that was on my left, grabbed my spare suit and strode into an empty change-room. As I closed the door I saw Nex head towards me and stand to the side of my stall; obviously waiting for me to exit to talk. I spent the time drying and suiting-up to compose my beating heart and racing thoughts; _what was I going to do?_ I was already running out of time before my appointment so I couldn’t talk properly with Nex.

Once I was finished getting ready I exited the stall and spoke first before I could be interrupted. “Nex I’ve got to be at diagnostics in two mikes, I’ve gotta armour-up and go,” I blurted out as I moved to the armour station.

He was going to argue, but instead conceded with a sigh before asking apprehensively, “Can we talk later?”

I bobbed my head in accent and the move drew his gaze to my throat; specifically the area where I’d most likely be sporting a small bruise if my neck wasn’t covered by the high-collared under-suit. Clearing my throat to distract him from any lustful thoughts I added, “I’ll meet you in the rec-room after my appointment.” Satisfied with the answer he turned to access his locker; to grab his own under-suit and to dress, while the mechanical arms spinning around me finished placing my blue armour on. Now in the relative safety of a thousand-pounds of titanium-alloy I gave him a slight wave as I headed out of the locker-room.

We never did end up meeting in the recreation room. Just as I arrived at the diagnostics lab F.I.L.S.S sounded out a ship wide message, “All Freelancer Agents please report to the bridge immediately.” It turned out to be a mission briefing. Apparently the data drive that Florida and I had retrieved on our first mission had an encrypted security code; the key for which we had stolen off the corpse of an Insurrectionist leader the evening prior. That key was also heavily encrypted so someone, most likely the Alpha, had been running a decryption program since we’d gotten back with it. Obviously whatever was on the data drive was very important if the Innies had gone through all the trouble of hiding it.

The most valuable information found, we were told by the Director, was the location of a heavily-armed Insurrectionist Frigate named the Sinister. Our mission was to infiltrate the vessel and destroy it through internal timed detonations. I was to lead the team of five Freelancers onto and out of the ship, while New Mexico was going to be instructing us on the placement of the explosives, as it was his field specialty. My jobs were the easiest as the crew of the Mother of Invention had already intercepted a Pelican bound for the Sinister, hence causing the emergency briefing, because its disappearance would be eventually noticed. I figured out the exfiltration plan on the jog down to the hangar bay; deciding that we’d simply use the emergency pods closest to our locations.

Normally I’d sit in the co-pilot’s position on-board a Pelican, however we needed to plan more of the rushed mission on the flight to the Sinister. I sat cross-legged on the floor in the middle of the open hull, with my fellow Freelancer Agents sitting in seats either side of me, while I gestured to points on the holo-projected schematic. After I’d shown them the locations of the various escape-pod bays, Nex moved to sit down opposite from me and point out the best spots to set the detonations. Once we’d gone through all the details Nex and I just stared at each other through our visors, both of us lost in thought while the others watched awkwardly.

Wyoming cleared his throat to garner our attention before asking, “So is this a hit-and-run or stealth mission boss?”

Thankful for the distraction I replied, “Both. We won’t all be able to avoid detection, so we’ll gave to be quick. However it’ll help to be quiet unless you want to battle through a legion of Innies.”

“Sounds like a good time,” Maine growled out.

“Oh I don’t know about that Maine, I can think of a few things I’d rather be doing right now,” Nex said silkily while looking at me; I was very thankful for my helmet that hid my instantly red cheeks and muffled the strangled cough I sounded out. I busied myself quickly by standing up as casually as I could and moving to the cock-pit to talk to 479er, closing the door once I was in. Peeling my helmet off my head I then proceeded to fan my heated face with my hand while taking a seat.

479er must have heard Nex’s comment because she snorted in amusement and then snarked, “Something gotcha all hot and bothered Bluey?” I didn’t reply which made her laugh loudly. “He’s probably just referring to how he likes that you beat him senseless every training session,” she tried to placate unsuccessfully, “I reckon that boy has a fetish.” Sighing in acceptance at my fate of being harassed for the rest of the trip, I re-equipped my helmet and started up some loud music, through both the internal and external speakers, that I’d loaded from my tablet onto a disk and connected to the A.I slot on the back. I closed my eyes as I listened to the soothing and hypnotic tones of my favourite song from the eighties; Drive by The Cars.

I’d decided that I was now used to Nex sneaking up and surprising me when his voice sounded to my right. “I’ve never heard that one before, when’s it from?” he asked while looking out the cock-pit window wistfully.

“Yeah it’s really good, what’s the band called” 479er added.

“1984,” I replied simply to Nex’s question before answering 479ers, “The Cars.” They both turned sharply to look at me in amazement, and then the next song in the playlist started up; You Might Think, by the same band.

After bopping my head around to the music for a few seconds I softly sung a part of the chorus, “You might think I’m foolish, or maybe it’s untrue. You might think I’m crazy, but all I want is you.”

Our pilot turned back to focus on the flight controls when Nex slid his gloved hand behind my back to rest between my shoulders. It turned out we didn’t need to have a talk in the rec-room to figure out what we were doing.


	10. No, Don't Go

It was absolutely the worst moment of my life when I watched helplessly through a tiny window as the escape pod sped off into the distance. My blood covered hands smeared the pressurized glass as I uselessly punched my pod’s door in despair. Then the erratic bio-scan feed from the retreating pod flickered out of range and I sunk to my knees numbly. I had no time to grieve as I was thrown suddenly into the ceiling of my pod as it launched; hitting my head and knocking myself out.

I awoke to the plain sight of a smooth, white ceiling. My breath caught in my throat as I started to recall what had happened. The images flashing before my eyes of knives and blood were interrupted by the soft and soothing voice of Florida. “It’s okay, don’t panic. You’re safe here Ari.”

I choked on a strangled sob at Florida’s unintentionally painful words. Upon realising he’d said something wrong, he placed a warm, calming hand on my arm to try and amend the mistake. “I’m sorry Ari, I didn’t meant to…”

“It’s Kara,” I interrupted hoarsely before I started to hyperventilate while saying, “I never got to tell him that.”

Florida’s hand tightened around my arm for a moment, but he gave no other indication that he’d heard me other than the sad look that passed over his face. I was thankful that he looked nothing like the person I was crying over; with dark-brown hair and eyes compared to red and blue.

He then gently placed a hand on the top of my head before saying, “I’m just going to quickly get Maine. He wanted me to get him when you woke up.” I just dipped my head slightly.

Maine was there when it had happened. Just before we’d all ejected our pods.

True to his word Florida was quick; opening the door for Maine before closing it to wait outside.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Maine said in a tone that was his equivalent of soft and quiet.

“I could have….”

“No,” he said more interrupted me with a more forceful tone. “Don’t blame yourself for the actions of others.”

“But when….”

“No,” he interrupted again more angrily and stepped closer to me. “It was the Insurrectionist that came up behind him and slit his throat.”

“If I’d just….”

“No,” he growled out while stepping forward again and starting to rant. “You couldn’t have reached the pod he was thrown into without dying in the explosion Arizona. And I understand that you two were already close. But he was my friend too. I’ve already gotten over any guilt I had about what happened. Now you have to. You’re allowed to be upset. But if I see you blaming yourself again I’ll punch you in the gut. Hard.”

He was crude, rude and plain mean, but I could tell that Maine only wanted to help. I understood that I couldn’t have done anything other than watch Nex float away into the abyss of empty space. So I had no logical reason to be guilty about what had happened aboard the Sinister; but I wasn’t a logical A.I construct like Delta in the future. I was human.

For the next week I tried in vain to keep my guilt and sorrow hidden away from Maine; I ended up being punched in the stomach at least three times a day. Everyone understood that Maine couldn’t really express his feelings with anything other than violence; but that didn’t mean they weren’t worried when they saw the large purple bruises that covered my skin. However by the end of the week we all thought of Maine as a genius because the method was somehow working. The sharp pain to the gut I now associated with my guilt meant that I avoided any feelings altogether. The real step forward didn’t occur until the new Freelancer Agents arrived; along with my long-awaited, black-market holo-projectors.

I’d just initiated my third intense training scenario for the day when the new Agents had apparently walked into the observation area of the training room; I hadn’t been able to greet them in the Hangar unlike the four other existing Agents, because I’d been foaming at the mouth to practise with my holo-projectors that’d arrived earlier that morning. Plus I’d quickly forgotten that they were even arriving in lieu of my new toys. So the first impression that Agents New York, Carolina, North and South Dakota, Connecticut and Washington had of me was interesting.

I was using the projectors on my armoured boots to form functional jets, as well as miniature ones on the palms of my hands to stabilise my flight. Just like Iron Man in the Marvel movies; I’d never really been a person known for their original ideas. I’d spent nearly two hours mastering the use of the tangible objects that were projected via powerful lasers. So now I raced around the training room; interchanging between short bursts of flight and sprints to conserve power, using the palm repulsors like Iron Man did; to blast away at targets with a high energy burst.

Florida was apparently the only one who had deemed it safe to approach me on the training floor once I’d finished evaporating a set of robotic targets. Probably because I’d told him about the projectors the morning after I purchased them online; wanting to share my excitement with someone else. The blue-armoured man chuckled before asking, “You having enough fun there Ari?”

“Oh yeah! I feel like I could take on the world with these puppies,” I said panting slightly from my exertions.

“Haha! Well I just came down to remind you that we’ve got guests today,” he said cheerfully before adding, “I don’t blame you for forgetting however. I would have as well.”

“Oh shit! Where are they now? Introductions with the Director?”

“No actually, they’ve already done that. They’re up in the observation room shaking in their boots after your display down here.”

“Oh,” I stated dumbly.

“I’m just kidding Ari!” he joked, “Only the one in steel and yellow armour was shaking in their boots. Washington I think he said his name was. The rest were just extremely impressed! They want to meet you.”

“Well then, I better do that then,” I told him before calling out to one of the ship’s A.I, “End training please F.I.L.S.S. What’s my overall improvement percentage?”

“Training simulation ended,” the artificial voice sounded throughout the room, “Improvement of three-hundred and sixty percent since last session.”

Florida whistled appreciatively, “I wish of could get my hands on a set of those.”

I laughed before cheekily adding, “They actually quite take a lot of effort to use without separating your digits from your appendages.”

“Why can’t you just say fingers and toes or hands and feet like a normal person,” Florida sighed as we headed to the viewing room, “And I don’t even want to know how you found that out considering you’ve still got all of yours intact.”

“There’s nothing normal about me Flo, you should know that by now,” I quipped as we walked up the stairs and I heard the muffled voices of the Agents waiting.

“You’re right of course,” Florida mused, “But how about you keep the crazy down to a minimum when you meet the new guys and gals?”

“I suppose I could perhaps be bribed into behaving myself,” I smirked.

“Fine. You can have my dessert tonight at dinner.” I just clenched my fist in victory, eliciting another sigh from my friend.

The first words I heard from the group of new Freelancers were, “Did I just hear a mention of dessert? Is there fruit involved?”

Of course it was Wash that had said them. I smiled at him warmly after I took my helmet off, manoeuvring it to the crook of my arm, while taming my helmet-hair with my other hand. “Yes to both questions,” I answered. “Agent Washington I presume?” I asked while holding out a gloved hand for him to shake.

He was momentarily flustered; I later found out that it was because he’d thought I was a man while watching my training, just like he’d done with Agent Texas in the show. Plus my smile had been overly friendly considering I’d technically only just met him and that he’d been a bit scared to meet me in the first place. He cleared his throat, shook my proffered hand and then countered with, “Correct. Agent Arizona I presume?”

I laughed amiably before clapping him hard on the shoulder and turning to greet the next in line. “Nice to meet you Ma’am,” New York said in a shamelessly flirtatious voice while slowly shaking my hand. _No surprise there, he’d probably even flirt with a picture of a woman_ , I thought amused with his antics.

York still hadn’t let go of my hand when he was suddenly pushed to the side by South. “Quit hogging introduction time York. You can go back to flirting after I meet the only person on this ship who knows what the fuck they’re doing,” she said to him in a typically South-like fashion before quickly shaking my hand and saying, “Nice to meet you Arizona, I’m South Dakota.” _She’s really not that bad yet. She even just kind of complimented me_.

“Same to you,” I laughed, “It’s good to finally have some more women around here.”

She laughed back and moved to the side to let her brother in. “Hi I’m North Dakota, South’s older twin brother,” he said in his calm voice.

“Why do you always have to add in the ‘older’ part North!?” South whined.

“So I garner sympathy over the fact I’ve had to know you longer,” he joked.

“WHAT!?”

The introductions carried along in a similar fashion. It was nice to meet all of these people before the effects that the events of the future would cause. Carolina was strong and determined, yet kind and thoughtful instead of the harsh and obsessed woman she would become after Tex’s arrival. Wash who was youthful and optimistic instead of the paranoid and cold man he’d become after the Epsilon incident. For the first time in a week I felt as if I had a purpose once more. I’d let down Nex, so the least I could do is make sure a similar fate didn’t befall these soldiers. At least I had time before the main events of the Project Freelancer trilogy to prepare; nearly three years I estimated, although the timeline of the series was seriously messed up so it could be less.

“I’m getting the feeling I won’t need gut-punch you anymore Ari,” Maine said to me.

“Wait? Who’s getting punched in the gut and why?” Connie asked.

“Oh nothing to concern yourself over Connecticut,” Georgia the dumb idiot chipped in cheerily, “Maine’s just spent the last week literally punching Arizona’s overwhelming guilt and sadness out.”

“What!?” several of the Freelancers chimed together in confusion. If looks could kill, the one that I gave Georgia would have vaporised him on the spot. The closest Agents to me also backed off a bit.

Realising his mistake he chuckled nervously while backing out of the room slowly, “Ahh … like I said, nothing to concern yourselves over.”

In a threatening display I made two clear-but-solid swords using the holo-projectors on my hands. The green-armoured Georgia squealed like a young girl and ran out of the room in panic. I just chuckled menacingly as I deactivated the holograms. After a few moments of awkward silence Maine punched me in the arm and cleared his throat as an indication for me to explain the situation to the newbies.

Sighing with defeat I then spoke with as little emotion in my voice as possible. “Agent New Mexico was KIA last week while on a mission. I blamed myself as Team Leader and Maine got sick of my sulking. Hence the gut punches. The end.”

“Do you mind me asking how he died?” North asked cautiously.

“Insurrectionist grabbed him from behind and slit his throat,” I said quietly, “We never retrieved his body because he was jettisoned in an escape pod by the guy that did it.”

“Did you get the guy that did it?” Wash asked.

I nodded, “Blew up with the frigate. That’s what the mission was.” Deciding that I’d answered enough questions about that horrible day, I headed out of the room and back down to the training floor.

Just before I exited the doors I heard North not ask but rather state, “Her and New Mexico were close.”

“Yeah,” Florida replied before pausing, “Very.”


End file.
